


Pinkberry Ship Week 2020

by kadabralin



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Brooke Lohst/Jeremy Heere (mentioned) - Freeform, Chloe Valentine/Jake Dillinger (mentioned) - Freeform, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, F/F, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadabralin/pseuds/kadabralin
Summary: Fics for Pinkberry Ship Week 2020.1: Lipstick (T)2: Kitten (T)3: Femme Fatale (E, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Victorian AU)4: Frozen Yogurt (T)5: Bleachers6: Sleepover7: Barbie Girl
Relationships: Brooke Lohst/Chloe Valentine
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	1. Lipstick

Brooke watched as Chloe uncapped the tube of Urban Decay Nighthawk Brown-Red lipstick, examined the untarnished surface critically, and applied it to her mouth. The lipstick glided easily across her lips, perfectly moist and even, without the smallest hint of dryness or chapping. Chloe had a nightly ritual for keeping her lips plump and perfect; DIY sugar scrubs, three kinds of moisturizers, vitamin E ointments, and a chapstick imported from Korea. Brooke was intimately familiar with the process. She almost envied the way Chloe used each thing with relish. She’d tried the sugar scrub once or twice, mimicking Chloe’s technique for ideal exfoliation. It was sweet, as to be expected, with a hint of strawberry and citrus. 

She wondered how it would taste directly from Chloe’s mouth.

Chloe pursed her lips in the mirror to better gauge the coverage. It was a cream lipstick, not matte, as was her preference. It complimented her smokey eyeshadow but clashed with her current choice of outfit. A clear disappointment. She wiped the lipstick away with a tissue and tossed the tube into the growing reject pile.

“Why do all these lipsticks fucking suck?” 

Chloe had sampled five others already and not a single one had passed her rigorous criteria. She had a date with Jake at the Cheesecake Factory tomorrow. Her choice of lipstick was of utmost importance. Brooke had a tube of something glittery pink, with a tint of orange, in her hands. She’d tried it herself earlier and liked it, but Chloe had said it looked bad. Brooke had agreed. It was too gaudy. Too flashy. It didn’t match her eyes. 

She kept it anyway.

“Maybe you should try the purple one?”

“I already tried the plum.”

“You could do something spontaneous! There’s a blue one. Jake will probably think it’s super rad.”

Chloe clicked her tongue in mild disgust. “He’ll think I look like a circus clown.”

Brooke didn’t offer any more advice. Chloe picked up a matte red wine, and a berry pink, and a dark brown. Each time she put the lipstick on it was like a work of art. Not a single line was out of place, an expert at her craft. It was mesmerizing how quickly she worked without a single mistake. Brooke always had to reapply at least once because she’d inevitably smudge or go too far past the outline of her lips. She stuck to lip gloss, usually. It was easier and required less attention to detail. Chloe never made a mistake. Her mouth was perfect even without the makeup, though. It was perfect even in the depths of winter when no amount of chapstick or vitamin E or foreign cosmetics could keep the dryness away. 

“Brooke! Earth to Brooke!” Chloe waved a hand in front of Brooke’s face in frustration. “Why are you just staring? You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I-I’m sorry, I was just… That red looks _so_ good on you.”

Everything looked good on her.

“You think so?” Chloe examined herself in the mirror cheerfully, but her expression quickly soured. “It’s too cherry. It won’t work. This is _hopeless_.” She threw the tube into the reject pile and dramatically dropped her head against the vanity. Brooke patted her shoulder consolingly.

“We could always go back to the store tomorrow?” 

Chloe made a muffled noise of noncommittal agreement and after a moment of silence she sat up abruptly, eyes wide with unbridled inspiration.

“You have that lipstick your grandma gave you, right?” 

Brooke hesitated. “I mean, yeah, I always have it…”

It was a pink coral, extremely expensive, limited edition, and a gift from her grandmother. Brooke only ever used it for special occasions, like Carrabba's dates or Homecoming. Chloe had never outright stated it, but it was obvious that she was jealous, and it drove her crazy that Brooke never allowed her to use it. There was something satisfying about possessing something that Chloe desperately wanted but couldn’t have, though secretly she wished that something was a someone instead. 

“Can I use it? Please? I know it’s special but I only just got back with Jake and I need him to be impressed so he forgets all about that Kristen girl. Pretty pretty please? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t super important.”

Brooke wanted to say no. She’d always said no up until now. If it were anything else Chloe wanted to borrow she would have handed it over without a second thought. Brooke was her BFF, sharing things was a part of girl-code, even if Chloe had a tendency to never return them. But Chloe was looking at her earnestly, eyes wide and begging, a pout on her makeup-stained lips. She knew she didn’t have a choice.

“Yeah, of course.” Brooke picked her bag up from the floor and removed the black case concealing the coveted lipstick within. Chloe snatched it from her hand and applied it with a single, fluid motion. She pursed her lips again and stared at herself in the mirror.

“It’s _perfect_!” Chloe laughed and flung her arms around Brooke, pulling her into a brief but crushing hug. “Thank you so much, Brookie.”

“What else are friends for?”

There was a moment when Chloe looked at her, lips slightly parted, noses almost touching, where they simply stared at each other. Chloe leaned in and Brooke’s heart beat faster, and she almost allowed herself to believe she’d kiss her.

And she did. On the cheek. Laughing as she pulled away. A large, pink imprint of Chloe’s mouth remained on her skin as proof.

“I need to post a selfie right now. You’re the best.”

Chloe vacated the room at lightning speed, leaving Brooke alone with nothing but the reminder of Chloe’s lips burning into her cheek.


	2. Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Chloe go Halloween shopping.

“You can’t go as a sexy kitten for Halloween, _I’m_ going as a sexy kitten for Halloween.”

Chloe stared at Brooke with displeasure, leaning forward, hands on her hips. Brooke frowned in response as she fiddled with the plastic cat ears in her hands.

“Oh, I mean, it was just a thought…”

“Jerry doesn’t seem like the catgirl type, anyway.”

“Jeremy,” Brooke corrected, but Chloe ignored her.

“He seems like the kind of guy who’d wank it to the school nurse.” Chloe pushed aside some of the costumes on the rack, one by one, until removing the one she’d been looking for. She turned it around so Brooke could read the description. “You would look _so_ hot in this.”

“Sexy nurse?”

Brooke had mentioned to Chloe, once, that she’d considered being an RN like her aunt after graduation. She wondered if she even remembered the conversation.

“It even comes with a stethoscope. Super kinky.” Chloe winked as she handed the costume over to Brooke, and Brooke reluctantly surrendered the cat ears to her in return.

“Is this the extra small one?” The costume wouldn’t be very effective if her assets were appropriately covered.

“Uh, duh, Brooke. Who do you think I am, a nun? Let’s go try these on already.” 

The fitting rooms were small, barely big enough for a single person, let alone two. The privacy curtain was crooked, and if they stepped too far to the right, an opening was revealing enough to allow the other patrons of the store to see in. The clerk sitting at the fitting from counter barely looked up from his magazine as they walked by.

“Only one person in the room at a time,” he said, voice a tired monotone. 

Obviously, it was just a suggestion.

“Oh my God, Brooke, quit elbowing my boob!”

“Sorry! It’s hard to undress like this.”

Shedding their clothing in the tiny, curtained room turned into more of a wrestling match than expected. No matter which way Brooke twisted or turned, she and Chloe were touching in some capacity. Not that it was necessarily a complaint, but it was hot and stuffy, especially for October, and the sweating was making it more difficult to remove her skinny jeans than normal. Once fully undressed Brooke turned around, awkwardly, to grab her costume hung on the wall, and came face-to-face with Chloe’s breasts.

Chloe was taller than her, so Brooke was always typically eye level with her chest, and seeing her undressed wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. She’d seen Chloe in her underwear a million times, really. But something about the proximity, and the heat, and the mutual state of undress, made Brooke’s face heat to an unusual degree. 

Chloe was wearing a lacy black bra, low cut, barely covering her nipples, with a sequined rose in the center. She had lacy black panties to match. Neither of which was all that appropriate for casual costume shopping, and as far as Brooke knew, Chloe didn’t have any plans after this. She realized, probably too late, that she was staring, and dragged her gaze up to Chloe’s face instead. 

She had the cat ears on and nothing else.

Somehow that made everything worse.

Chloe looked at Brooke quizzically, dissecting, piercing into her brain, and then the corners of her mouth lifted into a sly smile.

“You like it? Chloe rolled her shoulders back and then cupped her perfectly even beasts, thumbing along the lace. Brooke drank in every movement like a dying man in a desert oasis. She smoothed her hands down her sides, and then her hips. ”I bought them yesterday. I figured a scantily clad black kitten would be sexiest. I’m not going to be wearing _just_ this, obviously, but you know, just in case…“

Chloe reached out then, grazing the tips of her fingers along Brooke’s shoulders and along the base of her throat, letting them linger there.

“Isn’t that right, Brookie?”

Brooke wasn’t sure if she actually ever responded because her mouth moved, but it felt like she’d gone deaf. And then Chloe pulled her hands away, leaving her desperately cold. The plastic encasing the Sexy Nurse outfit was shoved into her hands.

“You still need to try yours on.”

“Oh right.”

Brooke ripped the costume out of the packaging and haphazardly pulled it on with moderate difficulty. It was a lot too tight, but that was the point. It barely covered anything. For some reason it felt significantly more revealing than simply being in her underwear had been.

It also bunched up uncomfortably in the sides.

“Maybe we should get the bigger size after all.” She began the process of squirming out of the costume, but Chloe grabbed her wrists.

“You don’t need a bigger size. Hang on.”

Brooke was unceremoniously turned around, back pressed against Chloe’s front, as she pulled and tugged and smoothed the costume into place. A few minutes of adjusting later and the bunching and creasing had vanished. 

“There,” Chloe murmured, hands resting on Brooke’s hips. Her hands glided up her sides one last time, smoothed over her stomach, and grazed across her breasts, leaving Brooke dizzy and flushed all over again. They both shifted to look in the mirror. Chloe had her arms wrapped around Brooke’s waist now, chin resting on her shoulder, smiling in a soft way she didn’t often get to see. “Like I said, you’re so fucking hot, Brooke.”

Brooke glanced at Chloe’s reflection in the mirror and vehemently agreed.


	3. Femme Fatale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke, on the cusp of womanhood, meets a mysterious woman at a bar. Antics ensue.

She met her a week before the debutante ball in a smoky bar she, technically, wasn’t legally allowed to be in yet. The air was thick with laughter, piano, and undignified displays of lust and drunkenness. It was hardly appropriate that she be there, but Brooke had attended with her escort and his friends, and it would have been even more inappropriate to decline. She was a young woman of the aristocracy; if she wanted to ascend the social ladder, she needed to go wherever the men offered to take her.

She was standing at the back of the crowded room, dark hair in perfect waves, a cigarette poised between two ruby lips, her dress a startling red to match. Brooke didn’t know why she’d caught her eye, other than the fact that the woman looked completely out of place compared to the other patrons, and how miserable she looked. Brooke watched her take a drag of her cigarette, and then exhale long and slow, the smoke temporarily shrouding her sour demeanor.

When the smoke cleared, Brooke was startled to realize the woman was looking right at her. The polite thing to do would have been to look away immediately and simply pretend she hadn’t been gawking at a complete stranger, but her gaze held her in place. The other woman seemed to regard her with interest, eyes trailing slowly downwards in a way that made Brooke feel undignified. She took another drag of her cigarette and locked eyes with Brooke again. This time, when the smoke cleared, the woman was smiling, beckoning, summoning her closer.

Brooke would have gone if her escort hadn’t pulled her away for another round of beer.

She hated beer, but Brooke found that once she’d forced herself to drink enough, she didn’t mind it so much.

The next time she saw the woman, Brooke was pleasantly fuzzy, and the night was still young. She’d been separated from her escort at some point between a drinking game and a round of vigorous dance. She caught sight of the red dress and paused, pushing past a tipsy couple to get a better view. This time the woman wasn’t alone. This time, the woman was talking to her escort, fast and sharp, but Brooke was too far away to make out the conversation.

They both looked at her, quickly, and then away. The woman said something else, gestured vaguely around the room, and then pointed directly at her. Her escort paused, and when he glanced at Brooke again his face was nothing but disgust and disappointment. He marched toward her then, coat and hat in hand, and barely glanced at her as he passed.

“Find your own way home tonight, whore.”

This time, nothing stopped Brooke from approaching the other woman.

“What did you say to him?”

The woman dropped her cigarette and snuffed it out with her boot.

“I told him you were a lying, cheating harlot who slept with half the men in the room.”

“What?” Brooke’s mind was reeling, sluggish from the alcohol, and struggled to comprehend why a complete stranger would do such a thing. “Why would you say that?”

“Because he’s _definitely_ slept with five other women in the room, and you deserve better.”

Brooke blinked repeatedly. “I need him to bring me home. I live on the other side of the river.”

“I know someone who can take you home. Don’t worry about it.”

“He’s my escort to the debutante ball.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Good riddance. You’ll find another suitor.”

She didn’t have any other words.

“I’m Chloe, and you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Brooke.” The absurdity of the entire situation made it impossible to do anything but accept the reality of it. Brooke felt ensnared by invisible vines, binding her to the spot, bidding her stay and endure.

“So, _Brooke_ ,” Chloe started, a sharpness to her voice, “I got rid of your little problem. Now I need you to do something for me.”

“It wasn’t a problem-”

“I need you to get me into the ball.”

“What.”

“Are you deaf?” Chloe asked impatiently. “I need you to get me in.”

“I’m pretty sure you need a formal invitation for that.” Not that forging one would be all that difficult. Brooke had experience.

“I don’t need an invitation, I’ll be your plus one.”

“But my plus one is supposed to be my escort-”

“Perfect. You don’t have one. I’ll be your escort.”

“ _You_?” Brooke tried to keep her incredulous tone to a more conspiratorial level. “But you’re a-”

“I can rock a tailcoat.” Chloe leisurely draped an arm around Brooke’s shoulders. The warmth of her skin made Brooke’s shoulders tingle pleasantly. “No one will know.”

“But why?” Brooke shook her head a little. “Why _me_.” 

Chloe didn’t respond immediately. She seemed to take a moment to think, all the while examining Brooke’s face with a calculating intensity that made her blush. She smiled slowly, brushing a finger down the side of Brooke’s cheek and down her throat.

“You seem like someone who likes to have fun.”

“I-”

“Don’t tell me you’re too good to break the rules, Brooke. Those balls are always boring, anyway. Don’t you want to have some _real_ fun?”

She wanted to ask what the “real fun” entailed, but she couldn’t seem to form the words.

“That settles it, then.” Chloe scratched small circles into the back of Brooke’s neck with her nails, the pressure even and soothing. She was disappointed when Chloe eventually pulled away, but she still stood unnecessarily close. “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chloe pushed a lock of hair out of Brooke’s face and smiled again, soft, and against all reason, Brooke had the sudden desire to kiss her. Instead, she stood silently as Chloe brushed her fingers down the side of her face, thumb teasing across her lower lip until they dropped to Brooke’s chest. The blush returned, more furiously this time, until she realized Chloe was gently caressing the pendant of her necklace.

She studied it with a fascinated awe. “It’s beautiful,” she said, gaze finally returning to her face. “It matches your eyes.”

Brooke’s mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“It- It was my grandmother’s,” she croaked. 

A family heirloom passed down to her as a reward for achieving womanhood. It was expensive, and rare, and glimmered a stormy blue in the light. It was the envy of all the other debutantes and one of the few things Brooke felt gave her an edge over the others. No one else could claim to own one of the rarest gemstones in the world. Technically, it was dangerous to be wearing it in a place like this, but what was the point of owning it if she couldn’t show it off?

Had Chloe said her eyes were beautiful?

“I’ll meet you by the fountains the night of the ball.” Chloe stepped back, grabbed a glass from the nearby table, and emptied its contents. “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

“And remember.” Chloe pressed a finger tenderly against Brooke’s lips with a wink. “It’s our little secret.”

* * *

Brooke arrived an hour early to the ball, sat on the edge of the fountain, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

She pretended not to notice the questioning, judgmental glances of the other patrons as she sat there, escortless and alone, on one of the most important nights of her young life. Maybe Chloe had been lying, a cruel trick to mess with her. Maybe Chloe had forgotten. Or, perhaps, Chloe had found someone _better_. What else could explain the incredible lateness? She’d already wasted enough of her time as it was, so it was probably better if Brooke got up and made the best of the night. She could weather the humiliation of arriving alone. She could even grovel to her previous escort, assuming he hadn’t found someone else.

But Chloe had consumed every waking moment of her life since that night. The red dress, the touch of her hand, the intensity of her eyes… What if Brooke went inside, and she never saw Chloe again?

“Why do you look like someone drowned your cat?”

Brooke stood up immediately at the sound of Chloe’s voice.

“You’re late!” She should be angry, but instead, she was simply relieved.

“I am?” Chloe glanced at the clocktower off in the distance and shrugged her shoulders. “It isn’t as if you missed anything important.”

“We missed most of the ceremony, actually.”

Chloe didn’t seem to notice the irritation in her voice.

“Let’s go, we don’t have all night.” Chloe held out her arm, bidding her to take it, and Brooke didn’t have the energy to decline. At least now, as they walked in silence toward the entrance of the banquet hall, Brooke could examine Chloe’s clever disguise. 

It was a stark contrast to the red dress from the bar. A perfectly tailored tailcoat and vest, a white bowtie, black pants. Her hair was still long, much longer than what would typically be considered appropriate, but it’d been slicked back and tied into a ponytail.

She looked handsome. 

“Thanks for getting me inside, Brookie.”

Brooke hadn’t even noticed when they’d entered the hall or stepped into the sea of couples. She felt like she was coming out of a stupor.

“What?”

“You really helped me, you know. You’re so sweet.” Chloe detached from her side, gave her a wink, and blew her a kiss. “Don’t have too much fun.”

Chloe was walking away from her, engulfed in the crowd. Brooke felt too frazzled to move.

“But I thought-”

_I’ll make it worth your while._

Brooke felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

* * *

She lost count after the fifth glass of champagne. 

Granted, they were small, and frivolous, and had barely enough alcohol to appropriately drown her sorrows, but Brooke was at least confident she’d achieve a hangover in the morning.

No one wanted to dance with her.

She’d spent months of her time building her network of socialites; attending gatherings hosted by the most insufferable and stuffy, agreeing with all the right politics, flirting, but not too much, with all the right men. All of this to secure her place amongst the social elite. Now, in the course of a week, she was a pariah. Her former escort had wasted no time in spreading gossip about her to everyone that would listen. That she was used, a tainted woman, an untrustworthy gold digger. Even the women she’d considered her friends, or at least pleasant acquaintances, had turned her back on her.

She could see them talking behind their hands when they looked her way, seated alone at a table with a pile of empty glasses. Used up, just like her.

Brooke didn’t know what she’d expected.

“You’re not having fun, huh.”

When Chloe appeared behind her, Brooke didn’t even give her the benefit of a glance. She frowned and hunched over the table, hands defensively cupping her champagne. 

“Why do you care? You did this.”

Chloe sighed, warm hands dropping onto Brooke’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

“Look, I know this was an important night for you, but now you know who your real friends are.”

“I don’t have any.”

“They were never your friends, anyway. They turned on you at the drop of a hat. I’m no one, and they all believed what I said. If I wasn’t this, they would have found something else to reject you for.” Chloe squeezed Brooke’s shoulders again, massaging the muscles with a strong, confident hand. Brooke felt the tension easing away, despite her efforts. “If I were you, I’d say fuck them. You have money and looks already. You don’t need them.”

“I guess,” Brooke replied, a pout to her voice.

Chloe’s hands paused, and then slid slowly down her arms soothingly. She leaned in close, mouth practically pressed to her ear.

“You still deserve to have some fun.”

Brooke bit the inside of her cheek, hot tingles cascading down the back of her neck.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What?”

“This place is so stuffy and formal. We can have some _real_ fun.”

“But I thought-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Chloe teased a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You won’t regret it.”

Brooke had a feeling that was a bald-faced lie, but despite all reason, she agreed.

“Where are we going?” She watched the ritzy, well-lit streets she was intimately familiar with melt into something dark and dangerous, unkempt and uneven, strange men shrouded in unwashed cloaks. Brooke began to wonder if she’d made a mistake.

“To the real party.”

“And where is that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, you’ll be fine.” Chloe paused. “I’d hide that necklace of yours, though. I wouldn’t want someone to steal it.”

“Oh.” Brooke glanced down at the large pendant resting against her breast and quickly tucked it under her dress. It felt odd against her bare skin.

“We’re here, anyway. I didn’t take you that far from town.”

There was a single brightly-lit building on the otherwise dreary street. It was rundown and badly in need of repair, but people streamed in and out of it in droves, laughing, and yelling. Brooke had thought the bar her escort had taken her to had been rambunctious, but this was another level entirely. She could hear the energetic notes of a fiddle leaking outside, despite the volume of voices. Chloe took her hand and weaved through the crowd into the building. 

Women were dancing on tables.

A man tucked a bill between another woman’s breasts, beneath her exposed corset.

“Those are prostitutes.”

“Obviously,” Chloe said. “What, are you interested?”

Brooke blushed. “No.”

“Good,” Chloe smirked, hands on Brooke’s hips. “I want you to myself.”

She didn’t have time to think too deeply about it. Chloe pushed her forward, into the chaotic, writhing mass of men and women, dancing so close together it was almost suffocating. For a moment Brooke thought she’d sink and be trampled to death, but Chloe grasped her arms, keeping her above water.

“Let’s dance.”

She’d never danced for so long in her life. The heat of the room was sweltering, and Brooke didn’t know how many strangers she was pressed against, but none of it seemed to matter. Chloe held her close, never further than arm's length, mostly chest-to-chest. She’d removed her jacket and partially unbuttoned her shirt at some point in the night and Brooke couldn’t help but stare. Chloe smiled at her knowingly, her hands dangerously low on Brooke’s hips.

Something seemed to possess her then, a hunger, ravenous. Brooke grabbed Chloe’s shoulders and pressed their lips together, and Chloe kissed back, much softer than she’d been expecting. Her hands traveled from Brooke’s hips and up her back, hot and possessive, and the warmth spread all the way through Brooke’s chest and middle. Chloe’s mouth was soft and perfect and Brooke was desperate for it. 

Chloe nipped her lower lip before she pulled away, flushed and breathless. She almost looked surprised, just for a moment, and reached for Brooke’s wrist, pulling her out of the crowd of people. The building was even bigger than Brooke had thought. There was a hallway, dimly lit, and stairs, leading up and up, for what Brooke felt was an eternity. Chloe shoved her into the first unlocked room they stumbled upon. Brooke was pressed back against the wall, pinned there with Chloe flushed against her. She attacked her throat and shoulder with soft bites and kisses, leaving Brooke dizzy. She gripped the back of Chloe’s shirt, pulling her closer.

“Fuck, Brooke.” Chloe moved her hands up Brooke’s stomach and lightly cupped her breasts. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

Chloe laughed. 

And slipped a hand under Brooke’s dress.

Brooke gasped, mostly in surprise, as Chloe’s hand traveled softly up her thigh and teased between her legs. A single finger trailed against her through her underwear. Brooke sighed softly, hips pressing forward against Chloe’s chest.

“You’re already so wet,” Chloe said softly, but definitely smug. Brooke almost felt defensive, but it melted away as she continued to rub her hand against her, slick and hot, mouth on her throat. 

Brooke quickly unbuttoned the rest of Chloe’s shirt, taking in the smoothness of her stomach and the bandages binding her chest. She wanted to touch them, rip them off, kiss the swell of Chloe’s breasts, but Chloe grabbed her hand and pinned it above her head.

“No.” Brooke tugged at her grip, but quickly gave up, groaning when Chloe moved from between her legs. “Take off your clothes.”

Brooke fumbled with the laces and the bindings of her dress and sloughed it off like an unwanted second skin. She’d only just kicked off the last of her underthings when Chloe threw her onto the bed and climbed on top of her, still dressed, to Brooke’s immense disappointment. 

Chloe seemed to understand.

“Next time.” Her hands slid up Brooke’s stomach and cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing against the nipples, pinching them softly when they became hard. “Next time, I promise.”

The thought of a next time made Brooke shiver.

Chloe rolled her breasts in her hands and leaned down to kiss her, harder this time, all the softness from before absent. She pinched and caressed her skin, making Brooke moan and writhe beneath her, hands grasping at Chloe’s hair and the sheets. Chloe hummed softly as she kissed downward, over her nipples, down her middle, beneath her belly, hands going with her.

She pressed a single kiss to Brooke’s inner thigh and looked up at her. Chloe’s eyes were dark and heady, drinking in the sight of her. Brooke's hair was fully disheveled, legs wide apart, breaths shallow. She still wore the necklace, and it felt sticky and hot against her skin, nestled between her breasts. Chloe smiled.

“You’re beautiful.”

Chloe disappeared between her legs and Brooke grasped at the pillow above her head. Chloe’s tongue pressed against her firmly, then moved in soft circles. Brooke moved her hips along with the motion, softly moaning her name. Chloe seemed to want to taste every part of her, tongue teasing her one moment, then moving away the next. Brooke gripped Chloe’s hair at one point, pulling it aggressively in the midst of pleasure, and Chloe hissed out a low moan.

She didn’t stop even after Brooke came, at least not right away. Every flick of her tongue against her made her tremble, toes curling, keening desperately for Chloe to stop but not to stop. It was a bittersweet relief when she finally pulled her mouth away and trailed kisses up to Brooke’s own.

The kiss was soft again, gentle, Brooke wrapped up in Chloe’s arms, until Brooke was too exhausted to do anything else but listen to Chloe’s breathing.

“Did you mean it?” Brooke murmured as she fought against the holds of sleep. 

“Mean what?” Chloe’s nails danced against Brooke’s hip.

“Next time.”

“Obviously I meant it.”

Brooke believed her.

In the early morning, light filtering in through the dirty window, Brooke woke up in bed alone. Chloe was gone, and so was the necklace.


	4. Frozen Yogurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Chloe eat froyo.

Brooke always ordered lychee frozen yogurt.

Occasionally it was passion fruit. Sometimes it was pineapple. If she was in a particular mood, she ordered raspberry white chocolate. But, by default, it was lychee. Brooke was extremely predictable, her habits obvious, feelings worn like a band t-shirt, spelled out for the world to see. Chloe could guess Brooke’s flavor of choice with almost 100% accuracy, not that it was particularly hard. It was always the same, with little variation.

So why the fuck did she order peanut butter frozen yogurt today?

“Did you start that essay thing for Mr. Johnson’s class yet?” Brooke sat down at their usual table in the Pinkberry, cup of peanut butter froyo brazenly placed in front of her, though she acted like literally nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. 

“Uh, yeah, I finished it last week.”

More accurately, she traded Brian Wheeler from Physics a handjob for the completion of her 7-page essay. She hadn’t even needed to do much. He’d come before his jeans were off. Chloe had almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Brooke sulkily shoved two Lactaid pills in her mouth and took a bite of froyo. “I don’t even know what to write about.”

“Didn’t he give us a list of prompts or whatever?” Chloe stabbed at her own yogurt with little interest, eyes fixed on Brooke’s cup. What did it mean? Since when did she like peanut butter? Was she sick? Was she into her neighbor? Did she get laid?

“Well, yeah, but like… I don’t even know which one to choose.” Brooke pouted at her spoon.

Maybe that was why she went with peanut butter. She was upset about the stupid assignment. What a boring mystery.

“Just write some bullshit, Brooke, that’s what everyone else does. You’ll get a B just for turning it in.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Brooke absently scrolled through her phone as she ate, but she suddenly sat up, phone clenched in her hand. “Oh my god, I forgot to tell you!”

“What?” 

“You remember my cousin, Lucas? He’s visiting from Germany next weekend.”

Chloe frowned in annoyance. Maybe the peanut butter wasn’t because of the assignment after all.

“And I care, because…?” Chloe asked impatiently. 

“Uh, _because_ he can get us VIP passes for the Taylor Swift concert, _remember_?”

“Holy shit, no fucking way!” Chloe only vaguely remembered that conversation a few months ago. She’d been too preoccupied with Instagram; Madeline had gotten more likes on her selfie than hers.

“I know!”

They chatted excitedly about the concert until their cups were empty, and Chloe had forgotten about Brooke’s unusual choice of froyo. Some things were more important than psychoanalyzing her normally predictable BFF. 

“Wow, since when was Lucas hot?”

Chloe had pulled up his Instagram at some point during the conversation. She casually hit the ‘follow’ button before scrolling ahead.

“Uh. Ew.”

“What? Just because you’re related doesn’t make it not true.”

“Could you, like, _not_ hit on every male family member I have?”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yeah you do. It’s _weird_.”

“I’ve never hit on your dad.”

Brooke sat back in her seat with her arms crossed and didn’t say anything.

Oh. Maybe she had. Chloe recalled a spaghetti dinner when they were in middle school where Brooke had been all annoyed with her after.

“Whatever. It’s not a big deal. Chillax.”

Brooke frowned but still said nothing. Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Here. How about I buy more froyo and I help you with that essay or something?”

Brooke’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not like there’s anything else to do.” 

Brooke smiled. Easy. It was always that easy. She knew Brooke like the back of her hand.

“I want the churro one this time.”

What the fuck.

What the fuck was Brooke’s _deal_? Chloe stood rooted to the spot for a moment, but she stood up with a pleasant smile. “Sure.”

First peanut butter, and now _churro_. Churro! Was she warped into the 5th dimension this morning? Chloe felt like she was losing her mind. Something was up, and she had to figure out what it was. When she returned to the table with their second helping of dessert, she’d developed a game plan; grill Brooke until she spilled her guts. There had to be a reason for her abnormal behavior.

“So what happened to Chad?”

“Chad?”

“Yeah, the guy you’ve been snapchatting with.”

“Oh, he’s fine. We’re still talking.”

Dead end.

“How’s your grandma doing?”

“She’s fine. She and my aunt are going to some spa thing in Iceland.”

Nothing.

“Your mom ever find out about the dent in the car?”

“Oh right, yeah, she noticed. She said it didn’t matter since the car is older than me, anyway.”

Zilch.

“I saw you at the mall with Madeline.”

Bingo. The guilt was plain on Brooke’s face. She was being weird because she was guilty of friendship betrayal. Chloe impressed herself sometimes. It’d been a lucky guess.

“Chloe, come on, that was two months ago. It didn’t mean anything…”

Two _months_?

Wait. That’s right. They’d already had an argument about that. Fucking shit.

“I know, I’m just fucking with you, God, don’t take it so seriously.”

Brooke shrank back in her seat, spoon in her mouth, a little miffed. “Okay…”

Silence filled the small space. Chloe was almost ready to rip her hair out in frustration. Was she really going to need a third round of frozen yogurt to figure this out? What flavor would Brooke order next, _caramel_?

“Chloe?” Brooke asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What?”

“You’ve got chocolate on your face.”

Chloe scowled a little and rubbed her mouth with a napkin. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s-”

“Thank fuck Jake isn’t here, or else he’d think I was a slob.” She reached inside her purse to her compact mirror, but Brooke reached over the table instead.

“Here, I got it.” Chloe expected Brooke to bat at her face with a napkin, but instead, she brushed at the corner of her mouth with her thumb and sat back, licking the chocolate from her hand. “Kay, you’re good now.”

Chloe stared at her in disbelief. 

Why did she do that?

Why did she look so casual about it?

Why did her neck feel hot?

Brooke frowned softly. “I gotta use the bathroom. I don’t think the Lactaid is working anymore.” 

She stood up and disappeared down the short hallway to the stalls. Chloe slumped in her seat, staring at the ceiling, defeated.

Maybe she didn’t know Brooke as well as she thought.


End file.
